


A little much-needed help

by WilwyWaylan



Series: Feuilly Week [3]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, M/M, Never - Freeform, because there isn't enough friendship around, because we need it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 04:33:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12498848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilwyWaylan/pseuds/WilwyWaylan
Summary: Feuilly has a date and is late. A disaster to come, really. And now, Montparnasse is joining the dance. Will things get horrifically worse... or not ?





	A little much-needed help

It was already past eight o'clock when Feuilly barelled into the Musain, barely stopping before going over a table and bringing the glasses down with him. He was trying to find his balance again, when a chuckle made him jump. Montparnasse was sitting at the next table, looking every bit the pretentious model drinking overpriced hipster coffee after a long day of lounging around. Which was more or less what he was. He took a sip of coffee, took the time to savor his drink, then glanced at Feuilly and asked, in the most indifferent tone he could muster :

\- So ? Why the rush ?

\- What, Feuilly asked, breathless, makes you think that I'm in a rush.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes, very slowly.

\- Oh well, besides the fact that you almost knocked a table over, and the fact that you're as red as Pontmercy in the summer, no, really, I don't know what could give me the idea.

Feuilly was half-tempted to retort something witty, but his mind was kind of blank at the moment, and he didn't have enough breath to say anything anyway. He just went to the bench he was sitting on earlier, and started digging under the cushions. Montparnasse watched him with vague interest rummaging around for a few minutes, until he finally extracted a wallet from between two seats. Montparnasse was still observing him, not unlike a cat watching a mouse, and Feuilly felt obligated to explain himself :

\- I have a date, and I forgot this here. And I had to come and pick it because I don't know if I'm invited and now I'm late and...

He was babbling, he knew, but to his defense, it's been a long week. And a very long time since his last date. Montparnasse let him prattle on, years of practice had taught him that it was the best to do, let him spill the beans. When Feuilly finally stopped, he just looked him up and down, and asked :

\- You're going on a date ?

Feuilly nodded.

\- Like _that_ ?

The redhead looked at his clothes. He wasn't dressed to the nines, but it wasn't _that bad_. He was wearing a nice polo shirt, and his best pair of jeans. Elegant enough.

\- What do you have against my clothes ?

\- If you call them clothes... the dandy sneered.

\- Actually, I do.

Montparnasse got up, moving towards him like a stalking cat. Then suddenly, he grabbed Feuilly by the arm and dragged him outside.

\- Let me go ! the redhead yelled, trying to break free. I'm late !

\- Good. You'll just be a bit later. No baby brother of mine will go to a _date_ dressed like that. What would everyone think ?

\- Well, first, no one will think anything because they don't give a fuck, and second, I'm not your baby brother. And where are you taking me ?

\- To the magic land of beautiful clothes. Now, shut up.

And off he went, dragging after him a Feuilly resigned to his fate.

~*~

Bahorel had already been checking his phone thirty-three times, and still, no message, no text, no nothing. It wasn't Feuilly-like to disappear like that. Usually, the redhead was either perfectly punctual, or gave a reason for his lateness quickly enough that the person waiting wouldn't worry. But right now, nothing. Less than nothing, because no one knew where he was. Enjolras had sounded quite panicked, and Bahorel had to reassure him that it was probably nothing. And then Grantaire had to reassure _him_ that he probably wasn't a widower yet and that it wasn't possible anyway. But still. No trace of Feuilly anywhere.

There was some agitation at the door, and Bahorel's attention was diverted from his phone. And then his breath promplty caught in his throat. Because Feuilly was walking towards him. But Bahorel had never, ever seen him like that. Instead of one of his ordinary tops and nice-but-nothing-more pants, he was now wearing a crisp black shirt, with a high collar, and black pants that fell perfectly. Instead of being just vaguely brushed, his curls had been neatly combed backwards and slicked. He looked... almost intimidating like that. His freckles were starker against his skin, and that new hairstyle brought out his cheekbones in the most interesting way.

Bahorel jumped out of his seat and went to meet him. He looked at him, up and down, still not sure that what was in front of him was reality and not a trick of his mind. Because, okay, he'd dreamt of Feuilly dressing sharply, but to see him like that... Finally, the redhead decided to speak.

\- Sorry, I'm late, I'm...

\- Doesn't matter, Bahorel cut him. You're here now, and you're... woah. No words.

Feuilly smiled, delighted and a bit flattered. He let Bahorel lead him to his chair and sat, the other man settling back in his chair.

\- Thank you, he said, beaming. But honestly, you'd have to thank Montparnasse for that.

\- Montparnasse ?

\- Montparnasse, yes. Saw me in the Musain as I was running late, said that his brother could go on a date dressed like that, and then, well... He kidnapped me. And of course, my phone died, so...

\- Wait, wait, wait, Bahorel stopped him. Brother ? Montparnasse is your brother ?

\- Oh... It's kind of a long story.

\- Long like "hour-long" ? Or long like "I don't want to talk about it" long ? 'Cause I don't mind if it's the second one.

There was a pause, during which Feuilly fidgeted with the cord hanging from the menu. Bahorel left him time to reflect on it.

\- I think it's not very long, in fact, Feuilly finally said. I think we should order, and it will keep us busy until our dishes come.

Bahorel opened the menu, as if he hadn't already read it a thousand times while waiting. Before choosing, though, he nudged Feuilly with his foot.

\- You don't have to talk about it if you don't know, y'know ?

\- I know, the redhead answered with a smile. And believe me, if I didn't want to, you wouldn't get a word out of me. But it's not a great secret. Just... personnal, I get ?

Bahorel nodded, and went back to his menu, but he couldn't help but glancing at Feuilly over the edge from time to time. Then again, who could blame him, when his date was looking like that ? He'd have to find a way to thank Montparnasse later, really...

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me jumping in the "Feuilly and Montparnasse are foster brothers" bandwagon !
> 
> Today prompt was "garbage bag" but taking it figuratively was way funnier !


End file.
